


Snowflakes

by TheBlackCatPounce



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings, Christmas, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Cute, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forgive Me, Forgiveness, Holidays, Honesty, London, Love, Post-War, Redemption, Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackCatPounce/pseuds/TheBlackCatPounce
Summary: They have matching scars and the same nightmares. He's sorry and she understands that it wasn't easy for him either. A chance encounter in a café leads to a conversation full of honesty. Is it possible for someone on the other side to understand you? Is it possible to be friends? Is it possible to fall in love? There are no certainties and Draco and Hermione have been through enough to understand that. They've also been through enough to understand that anything is possible and good things come when you least expect them.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. The Café

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write a little coffee shop scene, but I've decided to expand it into 3 chapters. Hope you enjoy! Comments are always appreciated <3

Hermione breathed in the smell of coffee. It smelled like warmth and peppermint. She flicked her eyes around the cafe, old habits die hard. She still wasn't used to not having to be ready to leave at any moment. It was strange to not have to keep everything in the little bag. She wasn't used to hot coffee in an actual white mug or the warm, buttery croissant in front of her. It was hard to imagine that only a few months had passed since Voldemort himself had died. Following their leader’s death, the Death Eaters crumbled and most had already been seen through their speedy trials. It was a December Wednesday, the air outside was cold and sometimes the wind picked up the scent of something special and indescribable. It reminded her of 3rd year, before so many things had gone wrong. This weather was like trips to Honeydukes, caramel melting on her tongue. 

The shop was kind of empty, probably a side-effect of the holiday season. Hermione was working on restoring the memory of her parents. It consisted of hours in the library, reading everything there was to read about memory charms. She wrote letters to prominent wizards and consulted with Medi Witches at St Mungos. An answer hadn't come up. She wasn't willing to give up hope yet, but there was a gloom hanging over the subject with Christmas only a few weeks away.

Hermione bit into her croissant, the flakes crumbling onto her jumper. She brushed them off and took another sip of coffee. She was usually a tea person, but this morning just called for a peppermint mocha. Small snow flurries began falling outside and she lost track of her thoughts while watching them. London was such a beautiful city when it was blanketed in snow. The hard grey edge of the city was covered up. The industrial bite of London was softened. 

“You look like shite, Granger,” someone commented dryly to her. She snapped her head up. Draco Malfoy had aged since they had last attended school together a year and a half ago. His hair was as platinum blonde as ever, but there were lines in his face that hadn’t been there before. He was wearing a long-sleeved button up under a white coat. “You’re as charming as ever, Malfoy.” He smirked, “That came out wrong. You look fine… good even. I just meant you seem worried or something. You have that look on your face.” Hermione resisted the urge to find her reflection somewhere. Why did Malfoy know anything about what her looks meant. 

Before she could respond, his name was called and he went to pick up his drink. _Just as well,_ she decided. She opened the book on the table and was just starting to read the second paragraph when the chair across from her scrapped across the floor. Draco slipped into the seat gracefully, like he was made to sit there. He hung his coat on the back of it. She glared at him, “I didn’t invite you to sit with me.” He shrugged, “I didn’t ask for an invitation. So what’s on your mind?” 

Hermione snapped her book shut, “What are you on about, right now? When have you ever cared about what’s on my mind?” Draco watched out the window for a minute, grey eyes tracing the snowflakes dancing through the air. After a silent moment, he turned to look at the witch across from him, “Do you want the truth or a polite lie?” Hermione couldn’t help but be intrigued. She picked up her coffee cup, took a sip and rose her eyebrows. “Truth,” she decided. 

“I’ve wanted to know what you were thinking for a while. Probably since fifth year when I realized that you were actually going to out-score me on my O.W.L.S. and it started to dawn on me that you might actually be better than me. But then I couldn’t talk to you. I suffered enough from my father about the exams, imagine if I had actually spoken to you,” Draco trailed off as though he had just confessed something. Which, to be fair, he had. 

Hermione pursed her lips, “So why talk to me now?” 

He looked hurt, “I mean it. I’ve wanted to speak to you before, but it’s hard when the Dark Lord is living in your house and your father is living in your head. Now one is dead and the other is in prison so I can talk to whomever I want.”

She took another sip of coffee, evaluating him. “Right then,” she began. Inspired by his honestly she opened up, “I’m thinking about how my parents don’t know who I am right now and how I’m probably going to spend Christmas alone or with the Weasleys. Neither of those options are particularly enticing. Being alone is fine, just a bit depressing. The Weasley’s would be okay, but I still don’t like large gatherings and seeing Ron would still hurt.” 

This time, it was Draco raising his eyebrows, “That’s a lot to unpack, Granger. Obviously, the parents thing is most concerning. What happened there?” It took her a few minutes to explain the memory charm and the move. They sat in silence for a while before Draco ended it by asking, “So you and Weasley broke things off?” 

She grimaced, “Yes. It was mutual, though. It’s easy to fall in love during stressful times and we didn’t feel it was going to work out in the long run. Honestly, we’re okay. I just don’t think I’m ready to spend Christmas with him yet.” 

“That fair enough,” Draco replied. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Hermione tried to digest the fact that she was sitting in a coffee shop across from Draco Malfoy and there were talking like civil human beings. She was even enjoying the conversation. He hadn’t called her a name once, hadn’t insulted her friends. Maybe he really was different. She examined his face while he looked out the window again. She had never really stopped to think about it, but it couldn’t have been easy growing up with Lucius Malfoy for a father. Somethings were too hard to outrun as children. Maybe Draco wasn’t changing so much as finally being who he was on the inside. 

Draco snapped his head up suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had engulfed them. “Listen, Granger. I’m really sorry for the things I did to you in school. That horrible word I called you. It’s unforgivable, but I’m still truly sorry. I wish I could take it back. I could explain the reasons, the world I grew up in. But I know it doesn’t excuse the things I did. Even after all that, you saved my life. I can never repay you for that. I’ve spent the last few months really trying to be better, though.” He trailed off, but shook his head when she started to say something. 

“I have nightmares every night about what happened to you on my foyer floor,” he said while studying the table. His eyes flicked to her arm, “I wish I could take that scar and put it on my own body. It’s not fair what happened. I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to the world.” He fell silent. 

Hermione was shocked. Tear welled up in her eyes as she looked at him. “I know. I know you grew up in a world of hate. My parents may have been muggles, but they were loving and supportive. I don’t know what you went through. And I don’t know what it was like to live with Voldemort” -he flinched- “in your house. You were a victim, too. You have your own scar and I have the same nightmares.” She looked pointedly at his covered arm. He was staring through the glass again and she realized how difficult it must have been for him during the war and how much character it took for someone to apologize like that. 

“You’re a good person. I don’t think many people would even listen to my apology, much less try to see my side,” Draco commented. She shrugged back at him. 

“Granger, if you want to consult some books that may be hard to find, you’re welcome to the Malfoy library. Anything you need from me, just tell me. I owe you everything.” 

“That’s truly generous of you.” 

“I’ve redone the entire main hall, so it doesn't look the way it did. And there’s no more dungeon. I converted it into a potions room,” he tried to assuage any worries she may have about the mansion.

“I appreciate you telling me that. I might just accept your offer now.”

“I hope you do,” he said, honesty in his voice. 

She finished her coffee and Draco realized he wasn’t ready for this conversation to end. He wanted to prolong his first long conversation in months with someone that wasn’t his mother. Someone who was good and who didn’t hate him. He couldn’t know it but she was thinking that she wasn’t ready for it to end either. Everyone danced around the tough subjects these days, but not him. He confronted it straight on. There was something refreshing about his honesty.

“Would you like to get lunch?” He asked her.

“I have to return this book, want to come?” She asked at the same exact moment.

They grinned at each other. 

“Why don’t we drop off the book and then get something to eat, my treat?” Draco offered.

“I’d like that,” Hermione agreed. 

They placed their cups in the tub to be washed and put on their coats. “If you say I look like shite again, I’ll hit you,” she threatened. “Fair enough, Granger,” he conceded, pushing the door open. The cold bit at her fingertips.

“Why don’t you call me Hermione from now on?” 

“Only if you call me Draco.” 

“Ok, Draco.” She agreed. He loved the sound of his name in her mouth. It was said kindly, not hatefully. She said it like it was something precious.

They stepped out together, snowflakes baptizing their new friendship. It crunched beneath their feet as they walked up the street. Hermione closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the silence of the city insulated in white. They sky was gray and it was still bitterly cold, but she felt okay- good even. For a second, she felt excited for the future. Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad afterall...

  
  
  



	2. Bond Street

**_Hermione,_ **

**_Will you show me around muggle London?_ **

**_Draco_ **

The note was short and some might interpret it as borderline rude, especially considering the niceties that usually introduced Draco’s letters. By now, though, Hermione knew better. Since that very first day, she had grown more accustomed to his mannerisms. He would write politely for the people who needed it, but preferred to use fewer words. Draco was a person who considered time his most valuable asset- probably a result of growing up with so many material assets. Hermione wasn’t quite sure what he wanted in muggle London or why he had thought about it in the first place, but she definitely didn’t want him to be hit by a car if he went alone. So she dashed off a quick response to him, agreeing to meet at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour. 

From their chance meeting in the café, things had progressed quickly. Sometimes, she was struck with just how strange it was that they had become such good friends so quickly. And yet they had fallen together like puzzle pieces that had been placed into the wrong boxes. Draco was more quiet, content to listen to her extensive rambling in ways that had always aggravated Harry and Ron. He knew enough to refute her points if he disagreed and could even reference the specific texts that backed up his own side. She had already spent many evenings in the library of his manor, devouring texts about memory charms and potions. 

Having agreed to meet him, she closed the book she was currently reading and got ready to go out. She attempted to tame her hair into a bun of some sort but she couldn’t get it symmetrical so in the end she gave up and put a warm hat on. It was still cold out so it wouldn’t stand out. Following the war, she had begun to indulge in makeup occasionally. She liked books, but she also liked feeling beautiful and a bit of mascara and lip gloss made her feel ten times more confident. 

She bundled herself up and got ready to go. Before flooing, she decided to tidy up her flat a bit. It was a fairly cramped apartment in a hybrid area of London. On her floor lived a wizard who was a bit older and somewhat eccentric and a younger muggle couple who had recently been married. Hermione liked her neighbors well enough but she was excited to move to a new home soon. She was thinking of trying to save up to buy a home in Godric’s Hollow where Harry had settled down. Ron was living with George in the flat above the shop. 

It was strange, they were war heroes but Ron still had just as little money as before and Harry still had just as much. Hermione had grown up in middle class London, but at the moment she virtually had no parents and no support. She was an orphan, though she lacked the rich inheritance Harry had received. She was getting some support money for the ministry while she settled back into normal life. She also wrote the occasional piece for the Daily Prophet and, secretly, typed away on her laptop at night. She delighted in writing fictional short stories where the character’s biggest fears were gossip and meeting someone to fall in love with- they were a short escape from the grief she was still dealing with. 

Cleaning such a small area didn’t take very long, so she decided to leave a bit early. She knew she would probably be waiting, but she didn’t mind. Perhaps she could have a cup of tea or a chat with Neville if he was free. As she stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, however, she was pleasantly surprised by Draco. He was already there. Of course, it was just like him. He always thought of the small things and never kept her waiting. She wondered if he knew how much that meant to someone like her, who was also intensely focused on the details. 

“Draco,” she greeted. He wasn’t one for hugs so he smiled at her instead, “Thanks for agreeing to go with me.” 

“Of course!” She was surprised by how much she meant it, too. Spending time with Draco was starting to feel like an easy and simple part of her life. Like he had always been there and would always be there. She felt at ease around him. 

They took off into London, the tiny streets and the busy walks were covered with a grey slush, a result of snow that had fallen days earlier. People were smiling despite the gloomy weather, hurrying through stop lights in their coats, scarves trailing behind them. Many were carrying shopping bags, some emblazoned with the logos of tiny shops that only a true Londoner could find and some flashing the names of more expensive brands. This was London at its finest, a mixed up group of people from every background all equalized and in a rush through the medieval streets and under the threatening sky.

Draco took the commotion in stride, but faltered a bit when a car drove past them closely. Hermione imagined that he wasn’t terribly used to them. He stayed calm, though, and followed Hermione to the nearest tube station. She had an Oyster card but was guessing he didn’t so she guided him through the process of buying one. “Do you have any money?” she asked him, trying to sound innocent but knowing she didn’t really want to have to cover for him, things were still a bit tight. 

“Yes, of course, I changed some at the bank yesterday,” Draco pulled the notes out of his pocket. It was moments like these that crystallize their differences to Hermione. She grabbed one twenty pound note and hissed at him, “Put that away before we’re mugged!” Draco complied but raised his eyebrows. Hermione shook her head as the machine spit out his newly minted blue card. He clearly did not understand the value of muggle money or the risks of pulling out such an enormous amount in the middle of a train station. 

“Where exactly did you want to go?” Hermione asked, finally realizing that Draco had never actually told her what he intended to buy. 

If Draco was a person who blushed easily, he probably would have then. “I would like to go to Bond Street. I heard that there are some great muggle shops there which sell beautifully made handbags. I sort of wanted to buy one for my mother. I was hoping you could help me pick one out and with the transaction and everything.” He trailed off a bit, but Hermione smiled. To tell the truth, she felt a bit touched that he trusted her to help with something that was clearly important to him. 

“Yes, of course, Draco. Though I don’t know that you should trust my fashion advice.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t! I merely wanted you to hold the bag so I got an idea of the way it would look on my mother, you’re about the same height,” he quipped to her, breaking the candid moment. She swatted at him muttering, “Prat.”

Hermione had met Narcissa a few times while visiting the manor. She was quiet and timid. In a somewhat alarming way, she reminded Hermione of Harry when he had first come to Hogwarts, accustomed to the abuse of the Dursely’s and still frightened of loud noises. Hermione didn’t want to ask Draco what his mother had suffered while married to his father, but he had alluded to it as cycling between lots of yelling and sleeping in separate rooms. Her devotion to Draco was evident and Hermione could tell that Narcissa still didn’t fully trust her, but was warming up. Hopefully, this would be another point in her favor. 

When Hermione and Draco finally turned the corner onto Bond Street, Hermione tried to remind herself of the devotion and love Narcissa had for Draco and how much his mother must mean to him if he was willing to venture out into Muggle London. Not just Muggle London, but the most expensive street of London, only a few days before Christmas. Throngs of people were milling about, filling in and out of the shops. Hermione felt overwhelmed, still unused to crowds and feeling uneasy. 

Draco noticed this and grabbed her hand, “It’s ok.” Suddenly Hermione realized she had made a very, very big mistake. Big. Mistake. Her mind’s alarm bells were ringing and her heart was pounding. Draco was holding her hand. And she liked it! It was warm, comforting, and grounding. She tried to look at him sideways as they drifted down the sidewalk. Did he look as alarmed as she felt? He didn’t. In fact, he looked perfectly at ease, his hand enveloping hers. Her overactive mind was spiraling out of control,  _ what did this mean? _ For once, she tried to shut it off and go with the flow. If she enjoyed holding his hand, why shouldn’t she? She hadn’t thought about it, but he looked good today, his grey overcoat keeping him warm, his blonde hair tousled by the wind. 

Several hours later, they had finally found a bag that was both posh, stylish, and expensive enough to give Narcissa. Draco and Hermione apparated back to her street and he thanked her once more, “Really, Hermione. I appreciate your help today.” “Draco, seriously, I had a good time. I’m glad you invited me.” He smiled at her, his rare smile. She treasured it. 

“Well, I’ll see you later then?” He asked. 

She nodded, “Soon, I’m sure.” 

He met her eyes, “Maybe you would consider coming over for Christmas? Just think about it.” 

Then, before she could even think, he leaned it. It was all at once the most natural and most surreal thing that had ever happened in the entire history of the world as far as Hermione was aware. She kissed him back. He tasted like mint and maybe a hint of chocolate. He was warm, but she suddenly forgot how to feel the temperature. Everything was lost and she was swimming in the essence of Draco. He pulled away after what felt like an eternity and no time at all. “Bye, Hermione.” He said. There was a faint pop and he was gone, before she could even say good-bye. She touched her lips,  _ what does this mean? _


End file.
